Page 10 of Cherishing Her


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But, unlike a lot of bosses, Max didn’t give off a vibe. Even before the ‘incident’, I’d worn the blandest of outfits at work. Sexual harassment had never been new to me, and because I was passingly attractive, that seemed to make things a thousand times worse. I’d been flirted with, touched, coaxed, and hit on more times than I could count.

I could spot a creep a thousand miles off, and Nida had hit that particular radar with flashing red lights.

But Max?

No. He wasn’t like that.

Sure, he’d tried to coax me with the coffee, and I knew it wasn’t out of the kindness of his heart, but…

That was just it.

But.

That but was why I didn’t feel myself choking in fear. Instead, I licked my lips as I stared up at him—not even feeling the need to put us on the same level by standing instead of having to tilt my head up to look at him. “Who do you know had flashbacks?” I countered, preferring to ask than answer.

There was a knowing look in his eye, one that said he knew what I was doing and that he’d let me get away with it. For the moment. He settled on the corner of my desk once more, seeming quite comfortable there too as he told me, “My brother. He’s a vet.”

I didn’t think he meant veterinary surgeon—a soldier. Well, if he looked like Max who was huge, then that made sense. I licked my lips again, tasting the traces of sugar-sweet coffee on them. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. My brother’s never been the same since he came back from that last tour.” Max’s eyes turned inward, almost like he was seeking something from his memory banks. Then, he shook his head, dispelling whatever it was, and murmured, “His flashbacks are far more aggressive. With you, you’d barely know. If I hadn’t seen the signs on him, I wouldn’t have recognized them in you.”

There was no doubt in his voice, and his arrogance irritated me. “Maybe I wasn’t having a flashback.”

He snorted. “We both know that’s a lie, Ms. Barr. Or may I call you Jessica?”

There was a grimace to his lips as he said my name, and it had me rearing back in surprise. I knew it was inappropriate, but nothing about my encounter with this man had been appropriate so far.

“You don’t like my name.” I made the statement blunt, as had he. Not allowing him any wiggle room. Something I knew he’d appreciate.

His interactions with Derek had shown me the man didn’t appreciate sycophants.

That grin appeared, quick as a flash and just as blinding. “Well spotted.” He reached for his own coffee, took a deep sip and sighed.

“I had an ex called Jessica. She was, to put it frankly, psychotic.” The grin appeared again, and God help me, it did things to my insides. “I have a habit of picking up psychotic girlfriends. I’ve made it an art form.”

“Psychotic is a strong adjective,” I said uneasily.

“Trust me, it’s fitting. And I don’t say it to be mean.” He rubbed his chin, and the gesture made not a whisper of sound, which told me his jaw was as silky smooth as it looked. “Jessica tried to set fire to my apartment.”

I gasped. “She set fire to your home?”

He nodded, but there was no anger on his face. That surprised me—most people wouldn’t exactly be happy that someone had tried to burn down their damn home. If anything, he seemed bemused, contemplative as he thought back to what had to be a traumatic time in his life.

“She did. She wasn’t happy when I ended the relationship. That was probably the most memorable break up I’ve ever had.”

His cheerfulness confused me.

“What’s the least memorable?” I said under my breath. If attempted arson was on the high end, I could only imagine the low end.

He hummed under his breath, seeming to take my question seriously. “I have a Yorkshire Terrier. One ex tried to steal him.” He growled. “Bitch.”

It amused me that that agitated him more than the arson attempt. If anything, it warmed me. He had a dog and he loved it; how sweet was that?

“That’s low end?”

“Oh, I have a veritable littering of bad relationships in my past,” he informed me. “It’s why Derek’s always uneasy when he sees me talking to a normal woman.”

“A normal woman?” I asked, squeaking a little because I knew he was referring to me with the ‘normal’ part.

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